


The Man He Used To Be

by WickedGood



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Dark!Marco, Lots of Angst, M/M, Maybe smut I'm not sure about that yet, spy AU, two points of view
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1376986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedGood/pseuds/WickedGood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spy AU, featuring Dark!Marco.</p><p>Jean is a new recruit for the Survey Corps agency, and is going through training. His mentor is an asshole with an eyepatch.</p><p>Marco was once a promising prodigy before the accident, and now he's stuck with this French bastard as a trainee.</p><p>Things can only go up from here, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

        The letter had came about a week ago, and Jean had kept it tucked safely away in his back pocket since then. Just to keep an eye on it, really. Jean had developed a bad habit of losing things over to the years, everything from pens to hundred dollar bills to the trust of his parents. The letter however, he couldn't lose. He wouldn't be able to replace it.

         It seemed simple. The paper was a little old, and it crinkled softly whenever Jean sat down, as if trying to tell him it's contents in it's own language. That wasn't necessary. He knew what it said. In school, Jean could never bring himself to remember any of the passages that his high school tried to force him into memorizing, but this was different. This was his future on a page. And not some stupid, cliché future either, like a shitty college acceptance letter that other teenagers dreamed about. A real future, one that all those guys had thought about when they were little but couldn't bring themselves to even consider now.

 

_Mr. Kirstein,_

_We have received your application for an apprenticeship, and after careful consideration, I am now writing to inform you that you have been accepted into our training program._

_Your mentor is Marco Bott, and you will start training under him allow with a few other selected instructors in one week from today. Be at the Scouting Legion Agency building (address enclosed) at 12:00 PM next Sunday. As requested you will be staying in the dorms for trainees, so bring your baggage with you. Training will last six months, but I reserve the right to send you on missions at any given time, if I see it necessary._

_Erwin Smith_

 

        Last time Jean had checked, that address was for a real estate company, but he guessed that was their cover story. Scouting Legion Agency was private, secretive. They worked only for the best, and hired only the best. Rumors on the internet said that they were more reliable than the president's secret service.

        Jean wasn't the best, that much was certain. He had no experiences with anything that vaguely had to do with spying or being a private investigator, but he was fit and rather clever, and picked up on things quickly. He had found himself frantically doing research on human behavior and combat skills that weren't covered in the local Tae Kwon Do studios when he got the first letter, saying he had been approved to take a test in order to submit his official application.

        There wasn't anything else Jean could actually see himself doing. College wasn't for him, and there was no way he was going into his parents business. Though he had briefly considered being a cop, it just wasn't as appealing as the possibility of working for the Scouting Legion. And somehow, he had gotten in, at least for brief training which would most likely set him on his way to an actual career, and Jean found himself grinning crazily every time he thought about it. There wasn't a lot Jean got truly excited about, but this took the cake.

        “Stop biting the inside of your cheek, man, you look like a dork.”

        Eren had earned himself an annoyed push to the shoulder, causing him to stumble into his sister Mikasa, who thankfully did not fall over and spill onto the sidewalk like a domino. The two Yeager siblings had also been granted an apprenticeship, and the three of them had gone to the same high school. While Eren was annoying and Mikasa was hot but undeniably not his type, somehow the small group maintained a sort-of friendship, enabling them to get along well enough to discuss applying with each other when Jean was unsure. It hadn't been a particularly long conversation.

        “Armin said it was a good idea to join?” Mikasa had blinked in confusion.

        Jean nodded, remembering how the prodigy hacker had mentioned it to him when he had asked about it.

        “Hell yeah! It must be then! It's settled; I'm gonna join the Scouting Legion!” Eren whooped.

        “If you're going, I'm going,” Mikasa had just sighed.

        “C'mon Jean, you have to apply too! We both know that's what you want,” Eren's eye brows were wiggling teasingly but his eyes were serious. For once, the piece of shit was right.

        So there they were, entering a building that looked like a fucking real estate agency, not sure what they were expecting, but trying to look confident anyway. Or maybe that was just Jean. Eren was too reckless to be nervous and Mikasa never worried over anything except for the well being of her brother. Jean forced his hands not to tremble as he scanned the scene. It looked like a normal business place, with a quiet buzz of chatting and low rustle of papers being sorted, the occasional ding of the elevator reaching the first floor. His gaze fell on the front desk, wondering if that was where they should go to check in or something.

        Fortunately for him, some higher power was on his side, because a young women with pretty red hair and a breezy smile had walked up to the trio and immediately said, “Punctual, good,” The comment was mostly to herself but it was confirmation enough for Jean. “I'm Petra; Mikasa, I'm going to be your mentor.”

        Mikasa nodded slightly, looking the woman up and down as Petra continued, “You three can leave your bags with her-” she pointed to a short, blonde girl at the elevator, who gave a little wave when she saw that she was being looked at. “And I'll take you and Eren up to the sixth floor, where we're going to start training; Captain Levi is already waiting for you there Eren. Jean, I'm afraid you'll have to wait here for Marco.”

        The comment directed at Jean was hardly acknowledged. His head was reeling a bit. _Captain Levi? Like an actual Captain captain?? Why did Eren get a person of power to train him, I'm better than him by a long shot oh my freaking God..._ It just wasn't fair, and the teasing smirk on Eren's face as he walked off with his sister and her mentor wasn't helping his rapidly worsening mood. _Why the fuck does Eren get some big hot-shot professional and I don't?!_

        In fact, Jean was so busy sulking angrily, lost in his thoughts, he almost missed his own mentor walking up to him. “What's wrong with your hair?” were the first words that Marco Bott ever said to him.

        Jean, subconsciously running a hand through the two-tone strains, quickly scanned over the man's face for any flaws or imperfections to point out in the coldest way possible, partly to defend himself, partly to get out of making a real response on his hair. It was just the way he wore it. He decided that it was cool a few years ago and stuck with it, plain and simple. The way the man had said it made it seem dirty, like it was a shame just to look at it, must less speak it. Jean wasn't going to take any of that. “What's wrong with your eye?” he retorted, not feeling bad in the slightest. Jean was quite tactless, and his shitty mood didn't help anything.

        He didn't look like someone you should mess with. The eye patch, which was what Jean had commented on, certainly indicated that; it could have been injured in a fight or a war, or maybe it was straight up gone, which was even more intense, a sign he had seen things that Jean might be witness to or even experience someday, things that left you bleeding and scarred. The fact that he was dressed in all black leather certainly helped to give clues of his character; a typical school bad boy, but older, more dangerous. Luckily Jean had had his fair share of dealing with those. Hell, he had been that one year. The crossed arms, the deep frown further added to that image. But what really caught Jean's attention was his eye, the one that was there.

        Most brown eyed people Jean knew had eyes that were bright, full of life and laughter. Sasha came to mind, his hyper, hungry friend who always knew how to make anyone laugh with a shitty joke or goofy prank. Marco's single eye was cold and unwavering, staring into his own, daring Jean to make another comment on the eye patch. It looked like it was drained of life, like a frozen lake- once so beautiful and picture perfect, a sight that everyone wanted to see, but then winter came, something making it empty, icy. The bitter wind caused others to shiver with one gaze.

        Jean never got an answer, just a growl, and a shove to the shoulder, a spark of anger lighting up a flare in his eye. “Get in the elevator,” he barked, and Jean glared at him, but obeyed, because this was his mentor, the one who was supposed to train him. He would have to get used to taking Marco's orders, just for the six months at least. Then he would be free of this bastard. Jean already didn't like him.

        The elevator let out a pleasant ring when the two of them reached the sixth floor, trying to ease the tension in the elevator. “This is going to be your first test.” Marco told him, grinning like a mad man, but it wasn't quite reaching his eye.

 

        On the sixth floor was the 3-D Maneuver Gear. Armin had told him about it. No one was quite sure how they would work out in real life, but the idea was it could keep up with a car in the middle of the crowded street from the air. No traffic, able to see everything... It was still being approved of being used in the outside world. Some people didn't think the civilians were ready. Some thought that the agents using them would be too exposed, leaving them open for shots. There are two types of people.

        Jean was part of the first group. Someone who didn't know what it was would be confused. Hell, Jean knew all about them and he was still struggling to master it, both the concept and actually using it. Thankfully, a string of furious swears to his left told him he was doing better than some. Specifically Eren. That had to make Jean smile.

        “C'mon Kirstein, is that the best you can do?”

        The sneer was right in his ear, taunting and cruel. Jean snapped at him, unable to withhold his comeback of, “Shut up, will you? I'm concentrating, and at least I'm doing better than Yeager!” This much was true, as Eren couldn't stay still in the gear, and he kept flipping over. Jean was stable, only a bit of a wobble here and there when he glanced the wrong way at the wrong time. He was confident that he was going to pass the so-called 'first test'.

        “Yeah, but I'm not expecting much from Yeager.” Marco said coolly, stepping back in order to take in Jean with his firm look. He was determined to met his gaze, his jaw set. The only problem with that was Jean wasn't a very good multitasker. How was he supposed to focus on staring down Marco as well as stay upright? Jean looked away in annoyance, figuring that it would be better to succeed with the Maneuver Gear than to win a staring contest with his mentor.

        Suddenly there was a shout, and Jean looked the wrong way. Eren had mastered it, and Jean found himself upside down. He had been distracted by his friend's jubilant outburst. So he did the first thing that came to mind.

        “FUCK YOU YEAGER.”

        It just sort of slipped out. Every time something went wrong, Jean always blamed Eren, and would yell at him. Sometimes Eren would yell back. Sometimes he would punch him instead, and a fist fight would break out. Mikasa would scold them later, but it would be worth it. He wasn't sure if it would be this this time however. Marco wouldn't be amused.

        But there was laughter.

        _That was probably Eren._

        But it was to his right.

        Jean opened his eyes, not even realizing they were closed until then. It was a sight to see. Marco was cracking a smile, giggles making their way through without his consent. His eye was warm, almost. Maybe lukewarm, certainly kinder and more open. Jean felt his mouth hanging in a perfect little 'o', silently observing the man as he laughed at his folly. It didn't feel mean though. Jean wasn't offended, and that might have been the strangest thing of all.

        Switches flipped. The light died from his eyes. Marco wasn't smiling anymore. “Get back up.”

        So he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can reach me on my Tumblr at ihaveapencilbehindmyear if you want to complain about Jeanmarco feels or something. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco's POV of what happened in our first chapter.

        To put it simply, Marco was pissed off.

        He could clearly recall going to Erwin's office at least three times for the past two weeks, discussing the possibility of an apprentice. “It was slight,” he had said. “I don't think you'd be the best for working with newbies,” he had said. That was good. Marco wasn't going to waste his time on some kid who most likely wouldn't last a week in training. He swore to God, the company's standards were getting lower every day. That bald kid nearly blew up the lab last week because he was too busy trying to impress that red-head intern by making a potato clock. That shit was for Petra to deal with, not him.

        “I have to train a shitty brat with no potential. Have you seen his records?” Levi griped, eyes narrowed into a bigger scowl than usual. “He's useless.” The papers, which seemed to offend him, were tossed over the arm of the couch, where they landed on the ground with a slight whisper of complaint.

        Marco's assignment was still in his hands. He had already thrown it across the room earlier that day, and didn't feel like doing it again. Maybe setting it on fire would be better. Who cared if it made the fire alarms go off? It would be amusing to see everyone scatter to try and find safety.“No, I haven't seen yours, I'm too fucking busy looking at mine. Your boyfriend is an asshole.” he added.

        “I know.” Levi scowled. “He's in for it later.”

        “Please. You couldn't punish Erwin if your life depended on it.”

        The only response was a grunt, because Levi knew his companion was right, and he just didn't want to admit it. Stubborn bastard. It appeared that it would be up to Marco to voice their objections. Erwin and his stupid ass orders could go to hell for all he cared. There was no way Marco was going to willingly train this punk.

_Jean Kirstein_ , must be french, oh God, if he had an accent Marco was going to beat it out of him,  _19_ , lovely, a hormonal, inexperienced teenager, that's just the sort of thing Marco wouldn't get pissed off at in the first five minutes of dealing with him, Erwin knew him so well,  _Parents- Anton and Mandolin_ _Kirstein._ That was the interesting part, enough so that he could calm down for a minute. Marco's single eye studied the page warily. The heads of the Kirstein Chemical Company stared back, the two black and white pictures printed out on the page under the photo of their only son looking displeased, both with Marco and with Jean's decision to apply for training.

_Why would someone with a perfect future planned out for him leave it to do this?_ Marco had to ask. All those rich boys were the same, waiting for everything to be served for them on a golden platter, not caring about the waitstaff. They demanded only the best, and expected even better. There had to be some reason for this Kirstein kid to come to the Scouting Legion.

        The agency had been keeping an eye on Kirstein Chemical Company for a year now. Such a big company, it had to have some secrets, and Erwin had told a few close associates that he was suspicious that they were the ones behind the so-called Titan Crisis, a condition whose reactions were similar to being on PSP. No one knew where it came from, but with a little digging on Hanji's part, a connection to Kirstein was found. Thankfully, the media hadn't really caught wind of it yet, giving them time to properly investigate. Last time Marco checked, the company itself was unaware of them. Maybe not. Maybe this was all a ploy, and Jean was planning to spy on the spies, because his daddy ordered it. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

_How intriguing._ That explained why he was actually accepted. Jean wasn't anything special. The only thing he truly had going for him was his heritage. Erwin must be hoping for information to slip out at some point during his training. That would also explain why Marco was in charge of him. This kind of thing was something he was good at- picking up on the little things, being able to spot the true colors of a person. Even if Marco didn't catch him on the first day, it would only be a matter of time until it would be revealed. And if his intentions were pure, which was unlikely, and if Jean would be able to actually manage to gather enough skill to pass the courses, even less likely, then  _maybe_ he could make a career out of being an agent. Or a janitor. There was no shame in cleaning up other people's messes. Levi did that all the time. But that was more of a hobby. “If I had a nickel for every disordered room I organized, I'd be the richest man in the world.” He had claimed in a drunken haze once, to which Marco replied with, “Shut the fuck up, no one cares.”

        “I'm gonna go see how long it takes for this Yeager kid to fail. See you later.” Levi stood, walking out of the room with a half wave, looking more miserable than usual.

        Marco nodded dismissively, and stretched, glancing at his medicine cabinet in annoyance, mentally willing the Advil to come and leap into his mouth. It didn't. “Asshole.” he told the container once he got a hold of it, and quickly downed three pills. It was going to be a long day.

 

_Who the fuck wears their hair like that?_

        The picture had not shown the odd, two-toned quality of it.  _How the fuck does that even happen? How fucking high do you have to be to think of a hair style like that? What an eyesore, is that the way the french do it, those obnoxious bastards?_

        Other than that, he was rather unremarkable, just like he had guessed from the reports. Lean, a bit muscly, pale and unassuming. Marco couldn't see his eyes from here, especially since the guy was staring at the ground, looking pathetic, but that didn't matter. He wasn't here to judge this Jean kid based on his looks.

        But really, what was the harm in pointing it out?

        “What's wrong with your hair?”

        His eyes were amber fire and they burned and kindled and scarred his face. The air was crackling with smoke and energy and Marco didn't like it one bit. It was something he wasn't expecting, something he wasn't planning on, and Marco had taught himself to plan for everything. “What's wrong with your eye?” was the harsh answer, and something shattered.

 

        She was his teammate, his friend. She had almost been shot.

        Marco stopped himself there.

 

        “Get in the elevator.” He couldn't even tell if he was angry, because he was just numb, and needed a moment. Things like this happened. Sometimes something came up that made him feel like this. He dealt with it as best he could. Thinking about her was almost always the cause. It was a phantom pain- it shouldn't hurt but sometimes it did, no matter how much time had past.

        You would think he would get something like that in his missing eye or scarred limb instead of his usually frozen heart.

_Keep it together. Just breath._

        They were weak thoughts, but it worked. They shut him down again, just how he liked it. He was back to his normal self. “This is going to be your first test,” Marco told Kirstein, grinning as trainer eager to see his pupil fail on the first day, but he felt nothing. Anything else would have been unacceptable. Feelings were weak, and he wasn't weak- feelings were for people like Jean, who was sweating like that suspect they had captured last week. He wouldn't meet his eye, which was understandable. Marco was a figure to be feared, in the kid's head.

        Good. That was just how he liked it.

 

        Jean was shit at the 3-D Maneuver Gear.

        Marco almost shook his head at that. He didn't like calling him Jean. It felt too personal. Besides, he didn't want to bother learning the french pronunciation of the name. “C'mon Kirstein, is that the best you can do?” Yeah, that was better. It rolled off the tongue more, it was easier to manipulate in his mouth.

        “Shut up, will you? I'm concentrating, and at least I'm doing better than Yeager!”

        Feisty french bastard, was that the way it was gonna be? Marco had to make a conscious decision not to smack him. Jea- Kirstein had almost reminded Marco of himself when they first met, with the criticism of a subject that probably shouldn't have been brought up, but this kid was trying too hard, lashing out too much. He didn't know how to keep what he was thinking locked away, _which just might end up being a problem if you wanted to be a fucking secret agent was this kid an actual idiot?_

        Yeager. The name rang a bell. _Levi's apprentice?_ Yeah, that was it. The other worthless one. He was having trouble too, Marco could hear Levi's annoyed grunt from here. But maybe he had that screwy belt that the bald intern had forgotten to replace.

        Yeah, that must of been it. There was cheering on the other side of the room, and Levi's mildly pleased, but trying to remain stone cold and indifferent comment of “Stop yelling, brat,”

        Another quality of Kirstein that would almost assure him a future of a failed trainee- he was easily distracted. He was flipped upside down in less then a second, and only a moment after, the term “FUCK YOU YEAGER.” was out of his mouth before he was even aware he was doing it.

_What a spoiled loser._

        That was the second thought.

        The first was something along the lines of pity, and amusement. Someone flipped upside down wasn't something he had witnessed since back in his own days of training, and Kirstein had the most offended, incredulous look on his face, as if gravity wasn't supposed to affect him.

        It was funny. Marco was laughing, and he had that old urge to help him up and get him to try again with a few choice words of encouragement.

_No._

        It was over before it begun. _I'm not like that any more._ “Get back up,” was all he said, and Kirstein actually obeyed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, if you couldn't tell, this is going to be in two POV's, so I'm really hoping that's it going to be that repetitive! As always, you can reach me at ihaveapencilbehindmyear on Tumblr, don't be afraid to come over and critique my Dark!Marco or something.  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean's first day of training. (Mostly filler I'm sorry)

He was on the track team every year, and was one of the most promising individuals on it. It wasn't just that he was fast, or had fantastic stamina, it was also how much he loved doing it. Jean could run forever, no matter how much his legs screamed or his throat burned. It was a new kind of freedom, one he found when running through the empty halls of his parent's mansion as fast as he could before the maid caught him and sent him outside instead. The wind made it better. He was almost free.

  
His last track meet in his junior year was the only one his father could make. To this day, Jean still didn't know why he came, or how he managed to stay off the phone the whole time. But he cheered the loudest, and for once Jean ran faster than Eren.

  
That was where their little group had met, back in freshman year. Mikasa was the star of the team, and Eren and Jean were competing against each other despite being from the same school; Armin was the water boy who felt it would be good for his health if he were to get some fresh air every week instead of being trapped in the stuffy school library with a textbook and a graphing calculator. They found that they were kind of glad to be with each other, and they were happy to help each other through the tough times, from Jean's inability to write a good lab report to the death of Eren's mom. The constant threats and uneasy glances became happy greetings and shoulders to lean on. Armin would often say, while the others agreed but didn't say so out loud, they had a special bond.

  
Mikasa was doing great, of course. She was great at everything. Jean used to have a stupid crush on her before he realized that he would rather love her as a sister than a sweetheart. Petra looked pleased as she completed another lap of the obstacle course with ease.

  
Eren was tripping over everything. It was easy for Jean to tune out Levi's string of frustrated cries and curses as he watched his clumsy apprentice. All he had to do was just keep running.

He wasn't a coward, he had assured himself through the years. Jean always ran from his troubles. In his middle school days when his parents fought each other over 'morals', he dashed out of the house to the nearest park. No one ever noticed, even when he returned hours after curfew and didn't bother sneaking inside through the window with the broken latch on the second floor.

Jean gritted his teeth and sprinted forward at the thought. _I'm not a coward. They don't take cowards._

It was at that point that Jean scanned the sidelines to find his mentor, see if he approved at his time, speed, and sure-footedness.

The world slowed.

Jean hadn't known Marco for very long, only two days at the most, but Jean was sure he had Marco figured out. He didn't get sad, he got mad, if he felt anything at all. Even his happiness was tinted with rage. If he had a heart, it had been crystallized long ago.

He wasn't normally wrong.

But Marco looked crestfallen.

That wasn't allowed.

_If he's upset, he's going to take it out on me!_

The thought was distracting. Jean spit the dirt out of his mouth after recovering from the shock of tripping.

“Kirstein! What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?”

He was pretty sure his head was bleeding, or at least bruised.

“If this were real life, you'd be fucking dead! How do you like the sound of that? You want that?”

Jean wiped a speck of red off his forehead, and snapped, “I'm sorry, I didn't realize I could _fucking die_ from tripping on an obstacle course!”

Marco snarled. “Do another fifteen laps!”

Still bleeding and dirt clinging to his clothes, Jean started running again, wondering exactly what he got himself into.

 

 

Marco was not pleased.

He had just been watching Jean. Marco hated to admit it, but Kirstein had been doing good. But he had been... smiling. While running. Because he was enjoying himself, probably.

It was like looking at his younger self in the mirror, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, eager and ready to be the best he could be.

Without the stupid haircut, of course.

He hadn't thought about it in years, but Marco wondered what he would be like if he didn't in the accident. Would he still be like that, why isn't he still like that, would it be better if he was-

And when Kirstein tripped, _why wasn't he as good as he should be?_

Stupid thoughts like that. Marco couldn't stop them.

Marco refused to let that happen again.

Storming across the building, scaring the interns who dare crossed his path, he made it to Erwin's office without breaking anything or anyone. “Erwin.” He flung open the door carelessly without so much as a real greeting. “We need to talk.”

He looked up from the paper he was signing. “Hello to you too, Marco. What's going on?”

“You've got to get rid of him.”

“Who?”

“My apprentice.”

“Jean?”

“Switch him with someone else, I don't care. I can't do it, I can't train him. That kid's no good for me, and I refuse to put up with it.”

Erwin, instead of jumping into action, just gave Marco a steady look. “Bott,” he started, “it's been two days. I think you'll be fine, you're one of the most accomplished agents I know. You can handle training a kid. Just give yourself a chance. Maybe Jean is just what you need.”

Marco didn't like the way that was phrased. “What is that supposed to mean?”

This time Erwin did take action. He stood up, knocking over his cup of coffee in the process, slamming his fists against the table in anger. “You know exactly what I fucking mean!”

They've had this argument before. “I'm better this way!” Marco shouted back, not even caring the door was still open. Everyone knew what they were talking about. Everyone knew the story, but pretended not to. Thinking of his old self, how weak he was, almost made him wince.

“You were one of the strongest people I knew back then, when you cared!”

Marco didn't want to hear it any more. “ _Fine._ ” He said acidly. “I'll keep the kid. But don't expect anything to change,” He added on the way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, hello again! It's been so long! I'm so sorry for the delay, it's been a pretty stressful school year, but now that summer has come, I'm going to be updating a lot quicker! ^^" Thank you for your patience

**Author's Note:**

> You can reach me on my Tumblr at ihaveapencilbehindmyear if you want to complain about Jeanmarco feels or something. Thanks for reading!


End file.
